


Mercilessly

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Tickling, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-25
Updated: 2006-10-25
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Ivy has other pollen at her disposal besides the sex pollen.  Also, there is tickling.  And most importantly of all, there is Clark/Bruce.





	Mercilessly

There were several reasons that Bruce didn't like the League messing around in his city. Chief amongst them was the simple fact that League members tended to underestimate the threat Gotham's villains presented. Oh, there were exceptions - Canary and Arrow came immediately to mind - but overall, the godlike beings that fought against alien invasions and planet crushers stumbled when confronted with Gotham's unique brand of supervillainy.  
  
While his allies usually respected his requests to stay out of Gotham - with the occasional pesky Superman interference that Batman never would have tolerated from anyone else - the criminals of Gotham didn't always stay within the confines of the city. Unfortunately, once Gotham's own began terrorizing the world at large, Batman really didn't have a whole lot of say in which League members attempted to help.  
  
Therefore, Bruce supposed all blame for his current predicament should be laid upon Poison Ivy. She _was_ the one who had decided to take her criminal activity to Metropolis, and Superman wasn't capable of sitting back and letting someone else take care of _his_ city, any more than Batman was.  
  
Still, after that incident last month with the so-called sex pollen, Bruce would have thought that Superman would have been more predisposed to honor Batman's request to leave Poison Ivy's capture to him. The fact that Superman had refused to honor that request fueled a spiteful rush of vengeful glee that whatever plant Poison Ivy had used on Superman _this_ time was causing the Kryptonian to occasionally sneeze in a manner that looked decidedly uncomfortable, and possibly painful.  
  
In fact, the sneezes were so frequent and severe that Bruce really wanted to get Clark to the JLA infirmary or the Bat Cave to run some tests in order to make sure the pollen wasn't having a seriously detrimental affect, as unlikely as that possibly was. He would have, too, had Clark not confined him to the rooftop of the Metropolis greenhouse where they had squared off against Ivy. Judging by the lack of innuendos and groping, Batman was fairly certain that the pollen in question _wasn't_ sex pollen. He didn't know what it was, exactly, and wouldn't until he could get a sample back to the Cave to analyze. He did know that it caused Clark to be very. . . _happy_. The amount of smiling and giggling coming from Superman since he'd been sprayed simply wasn’t normal.

Not even for Clark.  
  
It was always a good idea to try logic. At least, Bruce kept telling himself that, no matter how many times logic had completely failed him when it came to dealing with Clark. "Superman," he said calmly, and as clearly as he could with Clark's shoulder obstructing his mouth, "Let me up."  
  
Not listening in the least, Clark nuzzled his faced closer to Bruce's neck. "You don't like my hugs?" he asked, his voice a purr that would have made Selina jealous.  
  
"No," Bruce responded. "I do not like your hugs. Get up."  
  
To Clark's credit, he did sit up. Unfortunately for Bruce, Clark's method of "sitting up" involved a blurred action that resulted in his utility belt being thrown in the general vicinity of the sun, followed by the act of pining Bruce's arms above his head. Both actions were, of course, far too rapid for Batman to counteract. "You're always so cranky," Clark complained in an agitated tone that made Bruce really glad Ivy _hadn't_ used sex pollen this time. "Always focused on The Mission. Never having the time to smile or laugh with your friends." Clark suddenly leaned forward, blue eyes sparking with a mischievous glint that made Bruce suddenly reconsider his stance on the sex pollen. "I bet _I_ could make you laugh."  
  
"Clark, there are not one, but two supervillians roaming lose in your city. We need to catch them."  
  
"Yes, Bruce, I know. I also really don't care." Bruce barely had time to register that the casualness of Clark's dismissal was a very bad sign before there was another blur of motion. This time, the act was one-handed, as Clark refused to release his grip on Bruce's arms, and resulted in the entire top half of his costume being ripped from his body. It joined his utility belt in the flight to the sun.  
  
Well . . . he hadn't _thought_ it was sex pollen.  
  
Blue eyes continued to sparkle down at him. "Are you ticklish, Bruce?"  
  
"No," he responded promptly, confidently, and more or less truthfully. He did have the benefits of meditation techniques gleamed from several of the world's master martial artists at his disposal. Those techniques enabled him to withstand the very worst torture any supercriminal could unleash.  
  
If Dick happened to know a few extra sensitive spots that could test those limits. . .well Dick wasn't here, so that didn't really matter.  
  
"Oh, Bruce. You wouldn't be _lying_ to me, would you?" One strong hand turned feather light as it traced a line from Bruce's jaw down his neck and across is chest. Clark hit all the right spots that made Bruce grit his teeth and call forth every meditation trick he knew.  
  
"It's just not _good_ for you," Clark continued, carrying on a conversation that Bruce hadn't been aware of. "Keeping all of this rage and hurt bottled up. . _we_ like you, Bruce and we want you to be _happy_." Bruce didn't know who, exactly, "we" consisted of, but he wanted to know, so that he could add their names to list of people whose asses he was going to kick as soon as he got off this rooftop.  
  
Speaking of which. . .they really were beyond any chance of talking this through, since the decidedly _not_ sex pollen was affecting Clark so strongly. But Bruce had to try, especially considering how very hard it was to keep his composure with Clark's hands _there_.  
  
Still, the fact that Clark was _still_ sneezing - not that it had any effect on the firm hold Clark had on Bruce's hands - did concern Bruce. So he tried again to reason with Clark, even though it seemed rather futile at this point. "If you really want me to be happy, you'll let me go," Bruce argued, trying and failing not to let his discomfort show.  
  
The slight catch in his breath didn't escape the Kryptonian's ears, and a purely evil - or at least devious - smile spread across Clark's face. "This is the _spot_ , isn't it?"  
  
Bruce was perfectly aware that it was the pollen dictating Clark's actions and words. But he had every intention of making the Boy Scout pay once the pollen had worn off and he was back on his feet.  
  
His desire for revenge grew as Clark shifted positions, pulling Bruce's hands forward and holding them in place on his pectoral muscles as Clark himself slid further down Bruce's body. Bruce had to admit that the overall affect was impressive. If he had been foolish enough to attempt to break free from Clark's grasp the position of his hands would have worked against him, keeping him in place. Bruce was annoyed, but Batman was impressed and the latter filed the technique away for safe keeping, even as the former wondered where Clark had learned it.  
  
All rational thought, approving or otherwise, flew out of Bruce's mind the minute Clark's breath hit his right hip bone. Typically, Kryptonian breath was several degrees warmer than a human's, and that in and of itself would have been bad enough. But Clark was playing _dirty_ , using his supernatural abilities to alter the temperature of his breath, switching from warm to cool.  
  
"Nngh. . . _Clark_ ," Bruce hissed, letting some of his control slip. Because Batman or no Batman, that was his _spot_ , and Clark wasn't playing _fair_.  
  
Then Clark added his fingers - and what kind of games did they play in Kansas for the Farm Boy to know how to do _that_? - and some of that famed self control slipped a little further.  
  
To be entirely fair, Clark laughed first, a condition caused by the pleasure he derived from observing Bruce's predicament. Though Bruce couldn't deny the fact that Clark's laughter was joined by a deeper one. That first laugh was no more than a reluctant snort, but it drove Clark to increase the ferocity of the tickling _in that spot,_ and Bruce was unable to hold back the tide of giggles that erupted.  
  
Later, when the pollen had worn off, neither of the only two witnesses would admit to the lapse.  



End file.
